


Bound

by Karasuno Volleygays (ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Red String of Fate, Sexual Content, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-12 20:53:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16003109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor/pseuds/Karasuno%20Volleygays
Summary: Daichi is sure that Hajime is his soul mate from the moment they met, and time only confirms that they're made for each other.





	Bound

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bmmq](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bmmq/gifts).



> This is a frankenfic of one of my valentine kisses stories and a sportsfest fill, with some other stuff smashed into it.

They’ve always noticed each other. At least, Daichi thinks so. It’s hard to take one’s eyes away from Iwaizumi Hajime. Since the first time he saw Hajime play in middle school, the guy has been everything Daichi has ever wanted to be on the court: strong and dependable, with a will to match.

But ever since that first time Kitagawa Daiichi pasted Izumitate Junior High in the Spring Tournament, Daichi has caught Hajime looking at him more than once, as well. They don’t see a lot of each other in high school until almost the end; when they do, it’s striking. 

Hajime is taller and broader, tempered and indomitable. Daichi is doing fine in his own right, but their roles are different. Hajime is his team’s heart, and Daichi is the backbone of his. They face each other three times in a single year, and each of those times, Hajime has caught Daichi looking.

After the last faceoff, Daichi finds Hajime lingering outside of Karasuno’s changing room as the team emerges to leave the building, his eyes red-rimmed and focused only on Daichi. “Oi, Sawamura.”

Beside him, Daichi can feel Asahi tense up, but Daichi pats his shoulder and says, “Go on ahead. If I’m not out in ten minutes, go without me.”

Asahi gives a tight-lipped nod and keeps the flock of kouhai moving toward the exit where their bus is waiting.

Daichi steers them around a corner into an empty locker room. They stare each other down, and Daichi’s fingers flex at his sides as he struggles to find something to say other than ‘I know you see me watching, but I can’t look away’. 

The matter is settled for him, however, when Hajime says, “You don’t have to talk. Just hear me out.”

Hajime stands in front of Daichi, arms crossed and jaw clenched, eyeing him with a deliberation that makes Daichi shiver in a way unrelated to apprehension. “There’s something about you that I can’t figure out, and judging by the amount of time you spend staring at me, I think you feel it, too.”

“Yeah.” Daichi looks off to the side at nothing in particular. “I feel it.”

Daichi’s throat is dry, and sweat that has nothing to do with volleyball trickles down the column of his spine. When he turns back toward Hajime, he can’t look away. Hajime’s lips are so close to his own, and something in him burns for a taste. 

Swallowing despite his sandpaper throat, Daichi murmurs, “If I kiss you, are you gonna punch me?” 

Hajime snorts. “Nah. I think I’m into it. Plus, your face is already all jacked up.” Daichi barely has time to bite back a laugh before Hajime’s fingers trace the line of his bruised jaw and steal his breath away. “But I think I’m into that, too.”

Their lips brush together so lightly, Daichi almost thinks he imagines his first kiss. Yet when he meets Hajime’s eyes, smoky gaze hooded by long lashes, he no longer doubts. 

An urge stronger than anything he’s felt before overcomes Daichi. With a guttural groan, he presses Hajime roughly into the wall of lockers. Unskilled mouths hungrily explore one another, and hands greet new territory with enthusiasm.

Hajime’s hand is halfway inside the waistband of Daichi’s track bottoms before he stops it. “Not here,” Daichi pants. “Not now.”

“Yeah, I know.” Hajime rests his forehead against Daichi’s and closes his eyes. “I thought the red-string-of-fate, soulmate thing was stupid until I saw you back then. Best player on your team by a mile, but you busted your ass for the people around you. I wanted to be like that. I still try to be.” His eyes flutter open. “But I want you, too.”

Daichi’s belly churns at Hajime’s words. They have been watching each other the same way, after all. “So what do we do now?”

Hajime takes a dry erase marker — a red one, no less — from the whiteboard near them and slides up Daichi’s sleeve. A string of numbers sprawl out on the inside of his forearm, and for good measure, Hajime scores a thin line at the base of Daichi’s little finger.

Daichi chuckles at the sight. “I see what you did there.”

Cheeks red, Hajime looks away. “Shut up. It’s not my fault you make me all stupid.”

That chuckle turns into a laugh, and Hajime’s embarrassment eases into a serene smile, and Daichi isn’t sure he’s ever seen anything as beautiful. He isnt sure if Hajime is his true soul mate, but Daichi wants him to be; for now, that's enough for him. It’s with great reluctance that he admits, “I have to go.” 

The words are hard to force out, but he knows where he needs to be. His guys need looking after, and Hajime isn’t going anywhere. They have all the time in the world.

“Yeah, I know.” Hajime sighs. “My team needs me to be inspiring or something. I don’t know what to say to them. Losing fucking sucks.”

“Say what you feel,” Daichi offers without hesitation. “You’re proud of them, right?” Hajime nods. “Everyone did their best and you’re proud as hell to stand next to people like that, right?

“Go and tell them that.”

Hajime gives him a playful punch in the shoulder and heads for the door with his hands jammed into his pockets. “See you around.”

“Yeah.” Daichi’s legs don’t want to work, and he nearly misses his bus heading back to the school. Asahi gives him a questioning look, but he doesn’t ask out loud and Daichi doesn’t offer. It’s not like he has the answers, either. Iwaizumi Hajime is his most likely soulmate; what else is there to say?

 

***

 

Daichi takes in the sight of a brand new gym. The building isn’t new by any stretch, but it’s a place he’s never played volleyball before. It’s also where he’ll play until he finishes clawing his way through college. New teammates, new floor, new outlook. 

He never told Hajime where he planned to go to college because he can’t bear the thought of his decisions influencing the person who has rapidly come to matter to him so much in any way that might not be the best for him. Both of them had made that pact.

Daichi drops his bag in shock when he sees Hajime wheel out a cart of balls, unaware of his presence until the sound draws his attention. Daichi wants to run and fling himself into Hajime’s embrace, but his feet are glued to the floorboards.

Hajime gives him a crooked smile and goes about his business, leaving Daichi to totter into the changing room with a dazed look on his face. A few of the upperclassmen notice but don’t say anything, and Daichi is grateful for it. 

After practice is over and they’re both exiting the gym, they leave shoulder to shoulder without a word. It isn’t until they end up on the wrong side of campus from the dorms that they stop and address the looming thing between them. 

“So here we are,” Hajime observes.

“Yep.” 

“We didn’t plan this at all.” 

“No, we didn’t.” Daichi turns to ask Hajime where he’s going with this, but his heart stutters when he sees Hajime haloed by the setting sun, a serene smile on his lips. “I guess there’s no question anymore.”

Hajime chortles. “Was there ever? Neither of us are ones to beat around the bush. We both knew we were stuck with each other since we were thirteen. It just took a while before we got, you know . . . attached to the idea.”

“Yeah.” Daichi can’t say anything else. He can’t hear himself over the pounding of his heart.

“Yeah.” Hajime kisses Daichi with a tenderness belying his rough demeanor and barely caged strength. It isn’t a kiss between two people learning to love each other; it’s one for lovers who have never done anything else.

 

***

 

Daichi’s heart stops when he hears the sound of the ball slapping the floor. The only other sound in the packed gymnasium he can perceive is the blood rushing in his veins that roars so loud in his ears. 

His gaze drifts over to his left, where Hajime stands staring at his open hand. Hajime’s eyes meet Daichi’s, and the clamor of their teammates’ ecstatic cries start to trickle into the surreal haze while they throw their arms around each other.

The two of them have had their share of triumphs and defeats individually, but none of them carry the thrill and awe that accompanies standing on the court with the other half of his heart beside him while the reality of victory sets in. 

After barely squeaking into the spring tournament, their team surged through the rankings until they found themselves in a showdown with the top team in the Tokyo pool, one step away from national champions.

They made the step, and now Daichi is standing on the highest level right next to Hajime.

The celebration spills over from the court to the locker room, where their teammates change lightning fast so they can start celebrating that much faster. Daichi lingers, however, and he notes that Hajime does the same. In fifteen minutes, they're alone, still dressed in their uniforms and staring each other down.

“We did it,” Daichi says, tears of joy dried on his cheeks. 

Hajime quirks a crooked smile. “Damn right we did.”

They meet in the middle, mouths crushing together as their adrenalin-fueled hands rove each other’s bodies. A bench tips over behind Hajime,  but neither of them pay it any mind, their attentions focused solely on each other.

Teeth sink into Daichi's  shoulder, dragging out a ragged moan. His fingers dig into hard, muscled backside in reply, earning him a sound that lances through his blood and makes his entire skin buzz with desire.

“Fuck, Daichi, fuck,” Hajime gasps against the mark he had left at the base of Daichi’s neck. He writhes in Daichi’s grasp, and only Daichi’s strong legs keep them from toppling to the floor. He isn’t nearly done ripping Hajime’s paper-thin control to shreds.

Growling, Daichi hoists Hajime by his ass and propels them against the wall of lockers nearby. Their mouths smash together for a demanding kiss, and Daichi moans when Hajime rolls his hips.

Ripping his mouth away to gasp for air, Daichi wheezes, “What the hell are we even doing?”

“Each other, I hope,” Hajime answers before lolling his head back against the steel behind him. “You having second thoughts, Sawamura?”

Daichi takes in Hajime’s heavy-lidded gaze, hair streaked with sweat from a long and grueling practice, yet he looks so  _ alive _ . With a chortle, Daichi answers, “Hell no.”

Hajime’s legs wrap around Daichi’s waist, and he reaches down to where their bodies intersect and plunges his hand between their rigid lengths. Daichi, desperate to chase that sensation, roughly grinds their pelvises together.

Guided by need far greater than the scant friction they can achieve, Daichi wrangles Hajime’s gym shorts until they are bunched around the middle of his thighs while Hajime returns the favor. Their heated skin finally makes contact, and Daichi’s entire body shudders in anticipation when Hajime grips their cocks together.

Daichi thrusts up into Hajime’s achingly tight grasp, the cadence marked by rhythmic clatter of Hajime’s ass slapping against the lockers behind him. Their lips lock while they chase release, their rhythm growing increasingly erratic as they attempt to coax it from one another. and Hajime is the first to come with his eyes screwed shut and a string of filthy words on his lips that taste like satisfaction to Daichi.

It only takes a few quick pumps from Hajime’s come-slickened hands before Daichi follows, his damp forehead resting on Hajime’s shoulder as he struggles to catch his breath. His thighs burn from exertion and demand he unload Hajime’s bulk, but Daichi can’t fathom losing the feeling of Hajime’s hot golden skin touching his.

So they stay there while come dribbles down and glues itself to their volleyball shorts, Hajime’s nose buried in Daichi’s damp hair while his lips trail lazy kisses against Daichi’s temple.

“You can put me down if you want,” he murmurs near Daichi’s ear. “I know I’m not exactly light.”

Grinning into Hajime’s skin, Daichi leans forward, his entire frame sagging into the lockers but not relinquishing his hold. “Don’t wanna.” Perhaps the only thing keeping them both upright is that omnipresent red string he is almost certain binds them. It’s already dragged them both to the same college despite their efforts to the contrary; Daichi isn’t willing to rule the idea out. For once, the strings attached definitely have their perks. 

“Neither do I.” Hajime traces the shell of Daichi’s ear with his tongue and moans, sending a shiver throughout Daichi’s entire body. “You wanna go back to my place and get a whole lot messier?”

Daichi’s hold on Hajime slackens, and their spent cocks drag together as Hajime’s feet touch down. Closing his eyes to dispel the urge to go another raucous round against the wall like a wild man, Daichi brushes a kiss to Hajime’s lips. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

 

***

 

College passes by in a flurry of sweat, homework, and sex. What little time either of them can carve out away from volleyball and classes, they spend together. Sometimes, they go do something normal college kids do like movies and concerts; most of the time, however, they order takeout and screw each other’s brains out.

All in all, Daichi can’t even remember what life was like before Hajime, and hopefully after the diploma ceremony signaling the end of their college days, he won't have to think about it ever again.

Despite its size, the item in his right pocket is heavy with the promises and responsibilities that come with it. And Daichi is more than ready to accept both. 

The evening after the ceremony is long yet boisterous. Suga, Asahi, and Yui have come to celebrate with him, along with a few of Hajime’s friends — Oikawa Tooru, as well as a couple of guys called Issei and Takahiro. Daichi doesn't remember them by name, but he does recall seeing them on the other side of the net when Karasuno played Seijou.

Lifting a ridiculously large mug of beer, Suga stands at their table in the restaurant and grins. “So here we are, with a couple of college grads ready to take on the world.” 

Everyone at the table raises their glasses in salute, and Daichi’s face is hot with embarrassment every moment of it. Hajime glances over at him through the corner of his eye and snorts. “Don't be a baby. You worked your ass off for this.”

“Oh, Suga can embarrass me without my help.” Daichi catches a sympathetic smile from Asahi while Suga and Tooru debate over who gets to finish the toast.

However, Daichi’s thoughts quickly divert to the item in his pocket, which he can't stop turning over in his fingers. He can feel the finely crafted ridges in the red metal, molded to resemble layers of string twisted together in a knot and polished to a high sheen. It's a standard soulmate ring set — the best Daichi can afford — but the commitment behind it is worth much more.

It has been a bastard trying to figure out Hajime’s ring size, as the man has never worn a ring in his life, but hopefully after this day, he will wear one for the rest of it.

The gathering gradually peters out, and Asahi shepherds a wobbling Suga into the bus after Issei and Takahiro depart for their side of town. Only Daichi, Hajime, and Tooru remain. Hajime’s hand rests solidly on Daichi’s thigh, his thumb idly stroking the fabric of his trousers. 

The two of them look over at each other in tandem, and Hajime mumbles, “Hey, Oikawa.”

“Yes, Iwa-chan?” Tooru leans forward, his chin propped on his open hand. “What can Oikawa-san do for you?”

Without looking away from Daichi, Hajime says, “Beat it, will ya?”

Tooru squawks in protest, but when neither Daichi nor Hajime react, his mouth droops open and he hums, “Ohhh.” He pats the top of Hajime’s hand. “At least make it home before you start taking your clothes off. I'm not bailing you out of jail again.”

“Yeah,” Hajime breathes, and just like that, the two of them are in a world of their own, even in a crowded pub. “Wanna get out of here? I'm in the mood for a stroll.”

The bill paid long before by their friends, Daichi nods, and they leave the pub in favor of a walk through the cool March evening. Their fingers thread together while they meander through the streets not stopping until they wind up at a park near the shore. 

_ This is it _ , Daichi thinks. It's the perfect place.

Daichi stops, tugging Hajime to a halt, as well, and his face already starts heating up at the mere prospect of what he is about to do. His stomach twists itself like bread dough, and the air buzzes around him.

Hajime smirks. “As much as I'm down to see how much of a beating a swing set can take from two grown men, Oikawa’s right. Plenty of time for dessert later.”

Cheeks even redder, Daichi chokes at Hajime’s words and can barely restrain the urge to hide his face in his hands. “No, not that.” He swallows hard and takes a deep breath. “I just, uh, have something to say. Now that we're alone, I'm gonna get it over with before my head explodes.”

“If this is about me using your toothbrush this morning, I —” 

The apology he reminds himself to ask about later stopping when he cups Hajime’s cheek, Daichi’s heart speeds up as the moment looms. The words jumble on his tongue, and Daichi can't force them out. Hajime watches him expectantly. “I don't know why I'm so nervous,” he finally blurts, giving Hajime a sheepish smile. “I feel like an idiot.”

Hajime’s nose wrinkles as he quietly eyes Daichi. Slowly, his good cheer ebbs and he takes a shuddering breath. “You're breaking up with me, aren't you?” Averting his gaze, he murmurs, “I get it. We're not going to go in the same direction.” His voice cracks. “Come on. Let's get it over with.”

Choking on the breath he has been holding, Daichi waves his hands frantically and cries, “No, no, no, no!” Slapping his hands over his face, he grumbles into his palms, “This is a disaster.”

Hajime heaves a heavy sigh. “Jesus, you scared the scrap outta me. You take a minute and figure your shit out, and I'll be over here when you're ready to use your big kid words.” With that, Hajime wanders over to the nearby swing set and lets the swing slowly sweep over the mulched playground terrain.

Daichi takes a few calming breaths. He has met years of competitive sports and high level academics head on, but asking the person who means more to him than anything or anyone to accept a lifelong commitment to each other is more difficult than all of that. The problem is that there are no words in any language he knows that could articulate that in the way it warrants.

So he decides not to use words at all.

Moving over to the swings, Daichi feels around in his trousers pocket until he picks out the correct ring — the one that is loose on his little finger but too tight for his ring finger. Hajime looks up at him expectantly,  and Daichi just  _ knows _ this is the right way to do it. 

“Give me your hand.” Daichi reaches out, waiting for Hajime to do the same. He clasps their palms together and deposits the ring into Hajime’s grasp. 

Hajime looks down in curiosity, unfurling his fingers and staring at the red ring resting in his hand. His gaze jerks up and he gawks at Daichi, jaw slack and eyes wide. Sweat sprouts at Daichi's temples at the prolonged silence, and his toes writhe anxiously in his shoes. 

“Please say something,” Daichi wheezes. “I'm dying here.”

Remaining silent, Hajime lifts the ring closer to his face, and he turns it over again and again to inspect every facet of it. Finally, he says, “You want to bond with me?” Peering up at Daichi for the first time in a while, Daichi’s breath hitches when he sees the bright glimmer of tears welling in Hajime’s eyes.

“Can't imagine doing it with anyone else,” Daichi offers, his voice thick. “I love you.”

Kneading his bottom lip with his teeth, Hajime murmurs, “Are you sure? If it doesn't work, you —”

“I'm sure.” Daichi smiles wide. “I don't care if it doesn't work. Why would I want anyone else?”

Daichi can understand Hajime’s concern. A bonding is a serious thing, which confirms for sure whether two individuals are indeed true soul mates. However, it can only be tried once safely, and there are several documented incidents highlighting the danger of multiple attempts. 

Hajime's hands tremble with an uncharacteristic show of nerves, and Daichi is about to combust when Hajime finally slips that ring onto his finger, the fit perfect to Daichi's relief. 

Taking out his own ring, Daichi slips it on and laces his fingers with Hajime’s, and the rings touch. He gasps when their linked hands grow warm and begin to glow, the bright heat radiating up their arms and tracing a trail to each of their hearts.

If there had been any doubt about Hajime being Daichi’s soul mate, there isn't anymore. 

Slipping to his feet, Hajime takes Daichi’s hand and folds it into his own. The touching rings still glow through his skin, but the light is starting to subside, leaving a lingering warmth emanating from the metal.

That’s it, Daichi thinks. In the eyes of nature and the law, he is Hajime’s and Hajime is his. Their hands fit together, and they start the short trek back to the college campus to pack up their old places so they can find a new one all their own.

As they walk side by side toward the next phase of their lives, neither of them notice the glowing red cord tied around their little fingers, hanging slack between them because its work is done.


End file.
